All's Fair in Love and Law
by CloseYourEyesAndListen
Summary: The Ministry of Magic has enacted a new law, forcing two strong personalities into close proximity. Will they butt heads? Or will they learn give one another a fair chance? Rated M for language and later chapters. DMHG, EWE.


It was a snowy day. Hermione hated snowy days. They always brought bad luck and a chill that struck her right to the bone. As she turned over in her bed, she looked at her alarm clock and took note that it was only 5:47 in the morning. _And the bad luck begins,_ she thought. Since there was no hope of falling back to sleep, H rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom of her small flat. She disrobed and stepped under the streams of steaming water.

After twenty glorious minutes in the shower, Hermione stepped out, her skin bright red with the welts that the hot water left on her pale skin. As she had nothing planned for the day, she redressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. She was walking to the kitchen for a cup of tea when she heard a tapping at her window. A small Ministry owl pecked at the glass with a large envelope tied to its leg. After untying the letter and handing the scrawny barn owl a treat, Hermione sat down, conjured a cup of tea, and opened the mail.

_Miss Hermione Granger,_

_ In the aftermath of the war, the Ministry of Magic has come to the realization that unity between Pureblood and Mixed blood witches and wizards is near nonexistent. In the 2 years since His defeat, we have been looking for solutions to the bias that has landed the wizarding world where it is now. After much deliberation, we at the Ministry of Magic have decided to enact a marriage law to unite members of different blood statuses. Below is your assigned partner. You must marry in 6 months time. Your wedding date is set for the 21__st__ of June at the Ministry of Magic. If you do not wish to marry at the set location, you may request for a new location, to be approved by a Ministry official._

_Your affianced is Draco Malfoy._

_Regards,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister of Magic_

The sound of breaking glass rang through the flat as Hermione's cup of tea shattered on the floor.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

An incessant _tap tap tap_ on the bedroom window was the first thing Draco Malfoy registered as he disentangled himself from…_What was her name?,_ Draco thought. Ever since Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood bookworm took down the crazed man Lucius Malfoy loyally followed, Draco had been lying low in society, with a steady supply of witches with whom he could entertain himself. His current flavor-of-the-day was lying spread-eagle on the bed, snoring like troll, so Draco's movements didn't seem to stir her at all. He got up and walked to the window, where he let the Ministry owl in, hastily took the letter, and sent the bird along with a small treat. He opened the envelope and started to read as he lazily twirled his wand in his right hand.

_Mister Draco Malfoy,_

_ In the aftermath of the war, the Ministry of Magic has come to the realization that unity between Pureblood and Mixed blood witches and wizards is near nonexistent. In the 2 years since His defeat, we have been looking for solutions to the bias that has landed the wizarding world where it is now. After much deliberation, we at the Ministry of Magic have decided to enact a marriage law to unite members of different blood statuses. Below is your assigned partner. You must marry in 6 months time. Your wedding date is set for the 21__st__ of June at the Ministry of Magic. If you do not wish to marry at the set location, you may request for a new location, to be approved by a Ministry official._

_Your affianced is Hermione Granger._

_Regards,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister of Magic_

"Bloody hell…"

Draco's grip on his wand was lethal as he looked up to see his room an utter disaster, last night's conquest staring at him with wide eyes from the bed.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"…And I thought _I _had it bad, being stuck with Pug-nose Pansy Parkinson. I can't believe they paired you with Malfoy. That's awful."

Harry and Hermione sat in the café around the corner from Hermione's small book shop, Coup de Foudre, eating their usual sandwiches and soup and discussing the letters they received two days prior about the new marriage law.

"How are you holding up with the news, then?" asked Harry.

"I'm going to be civil about it. I might owl him later today to see when he would like to meet up. I mean, if we're going to be married in six months, we might as well start spending some time together, right?" Hermione had been thinking hard for the past two days about how she was going to handle setting up a meeting with Malfoy, and thinking even harder on how she was going to be able to spend the rest of her life with him. How hard could it be, though? He wasn't exactly a bad looking wizard. He had been _Witch Weekly_'s most eligible bachelor for the past two years. And Hermione supposed there had to be some good in him, for defecting to the Order near the end of the war, even if everyone else around her assumed it was to save his own skin.

But when it came to personality, the two would clash; of this Hermione was sure. She was certain he still held his blood biases, and wouldn't want to be anywhere near the "filthy little mudblood". They also have a violent history. _Ahh, yes. That punch third year did feel satisfying_ she thought. Hermione let a soft snicker escape her throat as her fist unconsciously clenched.

"'Mione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What's so funny?"

It was then that she realized her soft snicker was a little louder than she expected. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about when I punched Malfoy in third year. Part of me hopes I get the chance to do that again."

Harry and Hermione began laughing at the scene that played in their heads as the waitress came over with the check. Hermione began digging in her purse for her money, still chuckling to herself.

"Let me get it this time, 'Mione. You paid last time."

"Alright. I better head back to the shop. I'll see you next week?"

"Next week it is. See you then, Hermione."

Hermione headed out of the small café and rounded the corner to her bookshop. She muttered a quick _alohamora_, walked inside, and sat at her desk to jot down a quick note to Malfoy about meeting up to discuss their arrangements.

_Malfoy,_

_I assume you've received the Ministry's letter and are aware that we are now betrothed. I would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss a few things. Please let me know when you are next available. The meeting should last about half an hour at most._

_Hermione Granger_

She attached the note to her small tawny owl, Thatcher, and sent him on his way. As she watched Thatcher flap up above the city skyline, she couldn't help but wonder how this catastrophe would turn out in the end.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

_Granger,_

_ While I am not thrilled about this arrangement, I am available tomorrow at four o'clock. Meet me in the Three Broomsticks. _

_ Draco Malfoy_

**XXXXXXXXX**

___Malfoy,_

_ I'll see you then._

_ Hermione Granger_

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Hermione's day at work on Wednesday went as usual, with a slow trickle of customers from the time Coup de Foudre opened at 7:00am until it closed at 2:30pm, so when she made it home at three that afternoon she was exhausted. Since she had some book orders to fill for her loyal patrons, she set to work tracking down the publishers and buying the books. Hermione barely noticed the time passing, keeping her mind set on the task at hand. It wasn't until 4:05 that she realized her "date" with Malfoy was that afternoon, and it started five minutes ago. With a quick look in the mirror, she decided her jeans and blue button down blouse were good enough. She threw on her jacket and scarf, turned on her heel, and apparated to the Three Broomsticks.

To her surprise, Malfoy was already in the back corner of the pub, eyes fixated on the copy of the Daily Prophet that he had spread over half the table. Without looking up, he turned the page and condescendingly muttered "You're late".

"I'm sorry. I got caught up filling orders for work. I guess I just lost track of time," Hermione apologized.

"I guess so," he shot back, clearly irritated. "I'd like to address what needs to be addressed and be done quickly. I have a prior engagement at five o'clock that I'd like to be _on time_ for."

At Draco's snide remark, Hermione felt her blood begin to boil, but she bit her tongue and began their meeting.

"Of course. First, I know neither of us is thrilled about this entire situation, so I was thinking a private Ministry ceremony would suffice. No dress, no cake, no guests, no party; just you, me, and the Minister. We'll sign the certificate and leave." Hermione spoke quickly, noticing Malfoy's unchanging expression. Just as she was opening her mouth to continue, Draco spoke.

"That is not happening. A Malfoy does not simply sign a paper at the Ministry. The wedding will take place at Malfoy Manor, in the gardens, where Malfoys have been getting married for the last 400 years. I will give you money for a gown, say around 10,000 galleons." Hermione went to protest this, but Draco held up his hand and said "Don't interrupt, Granger. I'm not finished."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut.

"You may invite one hundred friends and family members, if you even have that many, and my mother will handle everything else."

Fuming, Hermione took a deep breath and spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I think this will require further discussion. I am not opposed to a _small_ affair, and I am perfectly capable of paying for my own gown. I believe I have enough saved for the type of dress I'm comfortable wearing. I don't need your assistance."

"I will not have the next _Lady Malfoy_ walk down the aisle in front of hundreds of people dressed in rags," Draco spat the words like a poison from his tongue.

"I'll think about it," – Draco's jaw clenched at this – "but in the meantime, let's discuss living arrangements. After what happened in your house two years ago, I refuse to live there. I will allow you to live in my flat after the ceremony. There is a spare bedroom that I think-"

"The lake house," he drawled

"I-… what?" Draco's interruption caused Hermione to lose her train of thought.

"We can live in the lake house. I don't find being forced into a flat like a sardine in a can to be very desirable. The house will be habitable within a month. I'll have the house elves prepare your bedroom and the nursery."

"Nursery? Malfoy, I am not having any of your children… and we most certainly will not be…_trying_." Hermione inwardly shuddered at the thought.

"If we are to be husband and wife, you will do as I say. And I am saying right now that you will give me an heir, even if he will be tainted with your dirty blood. The Malfoy line will not die because of you."

Hermione lost the composed exterior she had been trying to uphold for the whole conversation. She gripped her wand with white knuckles.

"Why not let it die now? The world would do better without more people like your father, torturing innocent people and raising perfect clones of himself. You are just like him, and you should be sharing his cell right now! You don't deserve your freedom…"

"Don't you dare talk about my father! You know nothing about my family; you know nothing about me, _mudblood_. There is more to life than chasing down the 'bad guy' and being a fucking saint like Potter. Tell me, Granger, how it feels to be the brains behind Potter's glory. How does it feel when you watch people worship him, knowing he couldn't have done anything he has done without you?"

Without a word, Hermione stood from the table with her wand still held tightly in her grip, spun on her heel, and stormed out of the Three Broomsticks. Draco sat with a smug grin, replaying her face going through multiple emotions before it finally settled on anger. The small *pop* of her Apparation brought Draco back to the present, and he stood from the table, dropping a few coins onto it to cover their drinks, and made to leave. That's when his foot hit a small beaded bag on the floor.

"Bloody hell, Granger. Can't keep your shit together long enough to grab your bloody purse?" He picked up Hermione's bag and decided he would return it. Not as a form of apology, for Malfoys do not apologize, but to have another chance to pester her, which always was his favorite past-time.

Seems times never change…

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Draco left the Three Broomsticks, Hermione's very small but very heavy bag in hand, and Apparated to Malfoy Manor for tea with his mother. This appointment was one for which he would never be late, for as quiet and reserved as Narcissa Malfoy could be, her bite caused pain much worse than any _Crucio_ could ever deliver.

He walked from the Apparation point toward the very large and ornate front gate. A chill went down his spine as he took a step through the wards that sheltered the house from the eyes of muggles and the wands of witches and wizards who still held a grudge against the Malfoy family. Those people, who still largely held the Malfoy family responsible for the near-collapse of the wizarding world, did not know what went on within the walls of the Manor these days. They didn't know that the reason Draco and Narcissa were free was because they defected to the Order before Lord Voldemort was defeated in the final battle. They didn't know about the list that the Order received from them that contained the names and locations of every living Death Eater who was in hiding after the war. Millions upon millions of galleons were donated to the Order of the Phoenix, and nobody but the two remaining members of the Malfoy family knew where this generous donation came from. The memories of this caused Draco to pause for a few moments before continuing forward.

A few steps further onto the property and Draco found himself staring in awe at the beautiful gardens. Flowers of every color, shape, and size imaginable spanned across the land in front of him. There were small fountains in the shapes of beautiful witches and wizards the spattered the grounds every 50 meters or so; there were white lattice archways covered in ivy that marked the paths through the flowerbeds from the vegetables to the fruit tree orchards in the distance. In the middle, where all the paths converged, was a tall marble fountain. The water trickled down each level of it despite the cold temperature that February brought, as if the garden itself was inside a large greenhouse and could not feel the effects of winter's wrath.

Draco's mother tended to these gardens without the assistance of the house elves. It was her way of brightening the ominous exterior of the mansion. He often walked the paths when he needed to be alone or needed a peaceful place to think. Draco figured he would have a lot to think about in the coming six months.

He passed through the gardens, pausing every now and then to admire his mother's handiwork. Sooner than he would have preferred, he reached the double doors at the front of Malfoy Manor. He brought his hand up to lift the hefty knocker, and almost immediately, the door opened and he was greeted by a small house elf.

"Good evening, Master Draco," She squeaked. Draco smiled at her.

"Hello, Millie. How many times must I ask you to please call me Draco?"

"At least once more, sir."

Draco chuckled at the elf's forwardness. Millie had been Draco's best friend within the Manor since he was born. She always took care of him in the good and the bad times, and always had time to play with him when he was younger, even when his parents did not.

"Millie, is Mother in the tea room?"

"Yes, sir. Millie will take you there, if you wish," Millie squeaked.

"No thank you, Millie. I know my way. Can you just bring the tea tray, please?" Draco may not have been polite to everyone he talked to, but he could never find it in his heart to bark orders at Millie.

"Yes, sir, Master Draco." And with a quick *pop* Millie was gone.

Draco turned to walk to the tea room, noting how much more pleasant the Manor was these days. The table in the large foyer where he stood once held various dark and foreboding objects, but now held a Sneakoscope (for security purposes) and a large basket full of flowers from the beautiful gardens he had just walked through. There were no more portraits of long-dead Malfoys, with their noses turned up and their painted lips always pursed. The only portrait left behind since his father left was a family portrait of Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco from when Draco was a small child. It was, Draco presumed, the only portrait in which his father was actually smiling.

He made his way through the foyer and down the long hallway into the tea room, where he found his mother sitting in a chair by the fire, quietly sipping from a mug.


End file.
